They Don’t Make ’Em Like They Used To

Book Review: “Into Africa: The Epic Adventures of Stanley and Livingstone” by Martin Dugard

★★★★★ (5 out of 5 stars)

I’ve blogged and podcasted about this before: but I have never been much of a reader. I think I have an undiagnosed form of dyslexia that makes reading words on the page slow and difficult, which leads me to get bored quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I can read. I can also listen well to audiobooks, but every once in a while, I find the right book and I just can’t put it down. Some books entertain, some books inform, and then there are books that hit the ignition switch deep in my soul. Into Africa by Martin Dugard was one of those books for me.

This book was epic. I could feel every insect induced fever and felt like I needed a bandana around my neck to capture the sweat of the long hikes through Africa. This was a real Indiana Jones-machete-through-the-jungle epic tale. It fed every part of my love for adventure and exploration—the kind of book that makes me want to lace up my boots, grab a compass, and disappear into the unknown. Dugard doesn’t just recount history, he puts you in the boots of men who trekked across uncharted terrain with a pencil sketch of a map and a high likelihood of dying from malaria. Meanwhile, as readers here in the 21st century, we like to whine when our wi-fi drops.

To be honest, before I picked up this book, I knew only the basics about David Livingstone and Henry Stanley. Basically, I was able to quote the iconic line: “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” But this book goes well beyond that one famous encounter. It digs deep into who these men were and why they risked their lives (and lost parts of themselves) in pursuit of the deep dark heart of Africa.

Livingstone, the Scot, began as a devout missionary and explorer, literally walked away from his family—walked away—to continue his quest and pursuit to find the head of the Nile River. As a husband and dad, I honestly can’t fathom that choice. I don’t relate to that level of sacrifice, but I was fascinated by what drove him. Stanley (the American, but also really a Scot), on the other hand, was a man fueled by rejection. Orphaned, abused, and seeking validation every step of his life. With literally nothing to lose and everything to gain, he said yes to the impossible task of finding Livingstone in a land the Western world barely understood (except for the coastal pillaging of the continent for the long abusive practice of slavery). Both men were complicated, broken, and driven in ways we may never fully understand.

What struck me most was how much threat both of these men endured. Every day. Disease. Starvation. Hostile tribes. Wild animals. A constantly dwindling supply of food, money, and manpower. And yet, they pressed on. It reminded me of The River of Doubt (another favorite of mine), where Roosevelt faced many of the same perils navigating an uncharted river in the Amazon. These weren’t cushy National Geographic trips. They weren’t cruising with motor boats and Land Rovers over previously chartered roads. These were life-or-death missions and for what? Curiosity? Faith? Pride? Legacy?

Dugard structures his book with such detail that you feel like you're marching along with Stanley. Chapter after chapter, the author reminds you of miles left to travel, so you’re inching closer to the mysterious figure of Livingstone, wondering if he’s even alive. And when that fateful moment finally happens and Stanley utters the infamous greeting, it lands perfectly. As dramatic as it sounds out of context, it is not overdone and not overly dramatic. In fact, Stanley really thought through how he (as an American journalist) would approach and greet who he believed was the more formal Livinstone. He decided to use a more formal approach, with the quiet gravity of one man finding another in the middle of nowhere, after crossing a continent to do so.

As I read this book, I kept telling my wife: We really don’t make men like we used to. We’re talking about men who had no GPS, no antibiotics, no reliable paper maps, no instant backup, no way to post their progress online. They faced real danger every single day, wanted to turn back at every life-threatening trial, but they just kept going. It’s hard to imagine that level of grit in a world where we panic when we have to navigate the grid of a known city.

But I don’t read books like this to glorify the past. I read them to spark something in me now. To remind me that adventure matters. That exploration of new places and the picture into your own thoughts and soul is part of what makes life worth living. It doesn’t have to be the African congo or even a solo motorcycle trip to Montana.. It can be a hike outside of town. Getting lost on a road trip somewhere new in your state. A creative project that you have wanted to tackle. For me, there is always something that longs to chase the horizon. This book reminded me of that.

As readers of theMangoTimes, if you're driven to feel the call of wild places and untold stories—Into Africa belongs on your shelf. Better yet, in your hands, dog-eared and smudged from coffee and pipe ash.

Because adventure, my friends, still has a place. And books like this make sure we don’t forget that.

Quietly making noise,
Fletch

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